


atlas abridged

by ienablu



Category: Mad Max: Fury Road
Genre: Blood, F/M, Gen, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2015-08-28
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:57:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ienablu/pseuds/ienablu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In the dim light of the greenhouse, the blood looks like bruises.</p>
            </blockquote>





	atlas abridged

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hauntedjaeger (saellys)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/saellys/gifts).



> Not the fic I was planning on writing, but that's how it tends to go.
> 
> Questionable sanitary things in this fic, but I figure there were plenty of questionable sanitary things in the canon, so I just went with it.

“Oi.”

Max turns around. 

The Dag has shed all of her white linen, now stands in her dark blue mantle. Her blue eyes seem to glow in her face as she tilts her head to the side, assesses him. “Who says you get to leave so soon?”

 

+

 

Max is reluctant to return into the Citadel. He returned on his own volition, he would like a chance to leave on his own. Him and Furiosa bid their farewells, and he was promised a bike besides.

The Dag just turns around and looks up at him, tilting her head to alternating sides, as she asks, “You mumbling something at me?”

He shakes his head.

She laces her hands around his elbow, leading him up stairways and down a maze of hallways. “Course it’s been a long day,” she says, picking up in the middle of a conversation. “Lots of denizens to talk to, lots of moving around. Splendid and Toast haven’t’ve left Furiosa’s side til the past hour. Lots of work to be done still.”

Max nods, because she’s looking at him expectantly.

She nods back, pleased.

The rest of their walk passes in quiet.

 

+

 

The balcony of Immortan Joe is no place Max had ever wanted to go, and he feels uneasy as he’s led into the cavernous room. He would really rather prefer not to be here.

“Stop mumbling to yourself,” the Dag tells him, before letting out a low whistle.

The Vuvalini are in a half-circle around a table, talking animatedly amidst unfamiliar faces. At the whistle they all look up, nod in acknowledgement, and continue their conversations.

Except the Valkyrie, who detaches herself and strides over. Her gaze flicks over Max. “We were wondering where you went off to.”

The Dag looks around. “Where’s Furiosa?”

“She left some time after you did. I’ve been telling her to rest ever since we started.” A few moments of silence. “Doubt she did, though.”

 

+

 

Max finds Furiosa in the greenhouse.

She stands in an aisle, her head down, away from the green on either side of her. Her face is hidden in shadow, while the moon shines down on her tattered clothing. The metal of her arm gleams from where its pillowed on a bed of plants.

“Hey.” It’s an acknowledgement, an announcement. He waits for a beckon or banishment.

“Hey,” she replies.

He waits another few moments, then slowly starts down the aisle, boots clinking against the metal grate floor.

She turns to look at him through her one good eye. Dried blood remains on her forehead, her nose, her cheek and chin.

“You okay?” Max asks, quietly.

Furiosa gives him a thin, close-mouthed smile.

Max nods. Steps in closer.

Closer.

His shoulder brushes against hers.

She leans against him. Slowly, slowly, slowly, until the whole of her weight is pressed against his side.

 

+

 

Water trickles quietly in the background. The wet sound of water drops against leaves mixes with the sound of their breathing. It’s strange – calming, soothing, when Max has gone so long without either in his life.

Minutes trickle by.

She takes a deep breath in, lets out a ragged exhale. A deep breath in, ragged exhale out. Deep in, shaking out. Her breath hitches. Shaking in, shaking out.

“Hey,” Max says, quietly. “You’ll be okay.”

“Stop talking,” she tells him.

He nods.

She closes her eye, satisfied.

In the dim light of the greenhouse, the blood looks like bruises.

He licks his thumb, and wipes it across her forehead.

She opens her eye again.

Max licks his thumb again, this time with a tang of copper, and he tries again, the red fading and fading away. He moves down to the blood thick in her eyebrow, but she recoils as he strays too near the cut.

“Sorry,” he murmurs.

He changes to his left thumb, and he gingerly wipes away the blood from around her nose. After a few swipes, she tilts her head, slowly, allowing him better access.

Amid their time together, fighting and moving and fighting more, he had assumed he had a few inches on her. He becomes all too aware of the fact that she is the same height as him when he dips his head to run his tongue along her jaw.

She stiffens under his touch.

Max draws back. 

Furiosa takes a deep breath in, deep breath out, and nods.

He leans back in. Another swipe of his tongue. Underneath the bright coppery taste of blood, there’s sand and grit and guzzoline. All familiar, against the foreign terrain of her cheek, her jaw.

His breathing comes heavier, in sync with hers, drowning out the background water.

She dips her head back as he tongues his way down her neck. Her hand balls the lapel of his jacket. She sways as he rocks forward with each lick. 

He rests his palms against her hips, grounding himself.

His mouth starting to dry, he lingers at the underside of her jaw. It’s not a kiss – been too long since he did that, and still too soon besides. But it’s a press of his lips against her skin, and he breathes her in.

Deep breath in, deep breath out.

Only a small swath of color remains, and a few swipes of his tongue is able to clear away most of the blood.

The blood isn’t entirely gone when Max steps back, but the facade of bruising has faded.

“I’ll see you around,” Furiosa tells him.

She’ll be okay, he knows.

Max nods.


End file.
